| Free!
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| Yeah!
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| Usher…
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| (Benji Style, Benji Style, Benji Style…)
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| Yeah!
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| Band Camp…
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| Yessir!
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| Steve Young, Jerry Rice
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| Steve Young, Jerry Rice
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| Steve Young, Jerry Rice
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| Steve Young, Jerry Rice
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| My thugs — me
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| My plug — me
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| What it do, Allah?
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| You know a nigga don’t give two fucks
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| I’ve been drinkin' berry red, gettin' screwed up
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| Move that man in, I had to drew up
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| You pupas’ll get stretched out
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| No need for a stretcher
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| Your bitch left and you left out
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| I fucked her once, then I left her
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| Wild boy, machine gun
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| Play the drum, Band Camp
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| Countin' money, machines shake us
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| Last time I got a hand cramp
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| No joke, I go broke
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| That four’ll smoke you, yeah I’m HAM shootin'
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| I made money, this priest here spoke
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| This summer too, I’m goin' Cam Newton
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| Play the corner, Steve Smith
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| Quick pass, long run
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| South ball, hard ball, all base, homerun
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| Third pig, we brick build
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| We built different, iron team
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| What you coppin? |
| You stoppin'?
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| You Moufasa, the lion king
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| What block you workin' on?
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| Seen the rocks you be perpin' on
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| Merkin' on — we done took out more shit
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| Than housekeeping and nursing homes
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| All in, now I’m all out — I was ballin', now I ball out
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| Would long spit, now I do small routes
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| Like five in and five out
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| My flow hot, and my strip jumpin'
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| We don’t cop 'em, I’m not frontin'
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| We do good business, give 'em straight ins
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| Got that new Benz come out next summer
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| Took your bitch to band camp
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| And she told me, once upon a time
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| She stuck a flute in her pussy
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| Then a couple guys got neck from her
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| This is Black Santa, better check for it
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| I move pies, get a check for it
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| Got a few floosies that rock Gucci
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| Louis V with that checkerboard
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| Daumier prints, and she down to catch a body
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| She a murder mami
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| When she ride she bring that tek aboard
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| And I got that Heckler — Koch shit
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| I’m from where the preacher come off the pulpit
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| And jump straight in the mosh pit
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| Break everything down
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| The rocks if the work slow
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| Acrobatics, I am Gabby Douglas, y’all cannot flow
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| Golden Retriever, I fetch the bricks
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| Wide receiver, I catch the bricks
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| I keep catchin', he keep throwin'
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| It don’t stop, it just keep goin'
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| And that beanstalk, it just keep growin'
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| My money tree, I’m talkin' cash, shit
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| Team Early and Band Camp
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| As we proceed to get the money
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| Biotch!
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| I keep rocks inside my pocket
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| I keep my black card in my wallet
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| And I ball out with these two chains
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| Damn right I got it
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| If I want it then I go cop it
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| Denzel in Training Day, yeah, I cop shit
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| Drop like 10, I buy the whole bar out
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| Then I ball nonstop, Rasheed Wallace
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| B’s up for the Band Camp
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| A rubber band is a band stamp
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| If you bring it down, I’ll buy you all out
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| Bring a couple barrels of that Grand-Daddy
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| 11−5 and I’m frontin' that
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| When it’s a drought, give me 12 flat
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| I’ll run her out if Steve throwin' the pass
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| And stretch her pack — Spandex
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| Beastin' out 'til the pack gone
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| Dyke shit, yeah the strap is on
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| If a nigga look or even act wrong
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| Night light, he gettin' clapped on
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| Two shots, call it a free throw
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| I got that 'thrax, he got cheeb smoke
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| 25 for a G, got y’all for 23, though
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| Have a nigga runnin' from a sack like Tebow
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| Steve Young, Jerry Rice
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| I got Al Green and Barry White
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| But if a nigga sing, he gettin' buried twice
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| Cold body, lonely nights
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| And I got the pack with an extension cord
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| That’s Steve Young, Jerry Rice
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| Long money, my money long
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| And Hail Mary, I’m Jerry Rice! |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Steve Young Jerry Rice , by - Freeway. Song from the album Black Santa EP, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп